


Hey Ya

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Dean Winchester and Donna Hanscum [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 06:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10380522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Dean and Donna have their first big fight. The Trickster takes advantage of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for song challenge on Tumblr. My song was Hey Ya by Outkast. This is partially based on a question Richard Speight, Jr. was asked at the Phoenix Convention. Who would his character (Gabriel/Trickster) take to the Supernatural prom. His answer was Sheriff Donna. Also, Speight said at ATL 2016 that Gabriel kicked the Trickster out of that body - head canon accepted.

Donna came awake slowly, her eyelids fluttering, the bright light blinding her. She squeezed her eyes closed and shifted in her seat. She heard the rustle of fabric, fabric that didn’t feel or sound like her uniform. She forced her eyes open, moaning at the short, sharp stab of pain that pulsed in the center of her forehead. She could hear the loud thump of music pounding through the room, every downbeat making her head ache even more.

_My baby don't mess around_   
_Because she loves me so_   
_And this I know for sure._   
_Uh, but does she really wanna_   
_But can't stand to see me_   
_Walk out the door._   
_Don't try to fight the feelin'_   
_'Cause the thought alone is killing me right now.._   
_Uh, thank god for mom and dad_   
_For sticking two together_   
_'Cause we don't know how..._   
_UH!_

_Hey... ya._   
_Hey ya._   
_Hey... ya._   
_Hey ya._   
_Hey... ya._   
_Hey ya._   
_Hey... ya._   
_Hey ya._

She pushed herself to her feet, nearly falling over as she stepped on the hem of her dress. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Dress?

“What the cuss?” she muttered as she looked down to see herself covered in a bubblegum pink, taffeta mess of shiny fabric. Her breasts were pushed up under her chin and she could feel the underwire of the push-up bra digging into her flesh. Donna yanked up the skirt of the dress, huffing in irritation at the sight of her feet shoved into three inch heels. She kicked them off, sighing in satisfaction at the sound of first one, than the other, hitting the wall.

She spun in a slow circle, trying to get her bearings. She was in a gymnasium, a decorated gymnasium, complete with mylar balloons, streamers, paper tablecloths, and flashing colored lights.

“What am I doing at a prom?” she muttered.

* * *

**_Eight Hours Earlier_ **

“It’s a Trickster, Dean, I’m telling you,” Sam argued. “Every sign is there - candy wrappers at every crime scene, the murders occurred in some unbelievable, sickly comical way, all of the victims were self-important assholes. It’s a Trickster.”

“He’s dead,” Dean shook his head. “Lucifer killed him. It’s gotta be something else.”

“What’s a Trickster?” Donna asked, setting three beers on the table.

Dean wrapped his arm around her legs and pulled her into his lap. He hugged her to his chest, his lips finding hers, the kiss perfect and highly inappropriate considering their location less than five feet away from his brother.

“Get a room,” Sam chuckled.

Donna blushed, her cheeks and chest on fire. She giggled and pushed herself to her feet, Dean’s hands lingering on her ass. She grabbed a chair and dragged it to the table beside him. He took her hand as he scrolled the open pages on his laptop.

“So, what’s a Trickster?” she repeated.

Sam peered at her over the top of his laptop. “A Trickster is like a demigod, an immortal creature that thrives on creating mischief and mayhem. They have the power to make objects materialize out of thin air, and they usually use unusual or humorous means to wreak havoc and destruction. They like to prove a point, to teach a lesson to people they think are self-important or full of themselves,” he explained.

“But it’s not a Trickster, because he’s dead,” Dean said again, adamant.

“But what if he’s not?” Sam said. “What if Gabriel is dead, but not the Trickster? We know that when angels are on Earth, they have to have a vessel. What if Gabriel booted the Trickster out of that vessel and took it? And when Lucifer killed his brother, somehow, the Trickster took it back?”

“Hmm,” Dean shrugged. “Okay, so let’s say it was the Trickster. We need to lure him out somehow. But he knows us.”

“He doesn’t know me,” Donna piped up.

“No, he doesn’t,” Dean said. “And he’s not going to.”

“Dean, I can help,” she protested.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head. “If this is one of those candy addicted assholes, I don't want you anywhere near it. Sam and I will figure something out.”

“Or, you let me help,” she snapped, irritated. “I’m perfectly capable of -”

Dean pushed himself to his feet, towering over her. “I know what you’re capable of, Donna, but this time you’re not helping. The Trickster is unpredictable, crazy. I said I don’t want you anywhere near him. Period.” He stalked across the tiny motel room and out the door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

_You think you've got it_  
Oh, you think you've got it   
_But got it just don't get it_   
_'Til there's nothing at all_   
_We get together_   
_Oh, we get together_   
_But separate's always better when there's feelings involved_   
_If what they say is "Nothing is forever"_   
_Then what makes, then what makes, then what makes_   
_Then what makes, what makes, what makes love the exception_   
_So why you, why you_   
_Why you, why you, why you are we so in denial_   
_When we know we're not happy here..._   
_Y'all don't wanna hear me, you just wanna dance_

_Hey... ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey... ya. (Don't want to meet your daddy, oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (Just want you in my Caddy oh oh)_   
_Hey... ya. (oh oh, don't want to meet yo' mama oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (Just want to make you cumma oh oh)_   
_Hey... ya. (I'm, oh oh I'm, oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (I'm just being honest oh oh, I'm just being honest)_

“Let’s dance!”

Donna swung around when she heard the voice yelling from behind her.

“Gabe?” Confusion and apprehension made her stomach churn uneasily. “Wh-What is going on?”

Gabe put his hand on his stomach and held the other above his head, swaying and sashaying. He was wearing a powder blue tux with a ruffled shirt and shiny bow tie. His hair was slicked back away from his face and he was grinning as he danced across the room toward her.

“I always wanted to go to a prom, Donna,” he said. “And you’re the girl I’d want to go with. So here we are!” He laughed, the sound ricocheting off of the walls.

Donna rubbed her forehead, flinching. Gabe’s laughter was like a shot of pain to the middle of her pounding head. She tried to remember what had happened between meeting Gabe and ending up here. And where was Dean?

* * *

**_Seven Hours Earlier_ **

Donna sipped the coffee, cussing under her breath when it burned her tongue. She ran a hand through her long blonde tresses, catching her fingers in the tangles at the ends, and pushed it out of her face.

She’d escaped the motel room an hour earlier, her anxiety level so high after Dean’s pronouncement that she felt like she was suffocating. They rarely argued, but when they did, she always felt miserable and responsible, even when it hadn't been her who started the argument. She’d muttered something to Sam about needing fresh air and bolted. She ducked into the diner a block from the motel, sat by the window and ordered a pot of coffee.

“You don't look too happy.”

Donna smiled weakly at the man sitting a couple seats down from her. He had introduced himself as soon as she'd sat down - Gabriel, but you can call me Gabe - and he’d been trying to engage her in conversation since she’d arrived, which until this point, she’d managed to avoid. She’d thought he’d given up until he spoke up again.

“I got in an argument with my...uh, my boyfriend.” She hated calling Dean that, he was so much more than a boyfriend, it was almost an insult to refer to him as just her boyfriend. “I needed some air.” She shrugged. “Ended up here.”

“Was he being a dick?”

Donna opened her mouth to say no, but instead a slightly modified version of the truth came out, one in which the Winchesters (not her, not if Dean had his way) weren't hunting monsters, but notorious bad guys. She must have been holding it all in, because it seemed to flow out of her like a dam had broken somewhere inside. Once the words finally flowed to a stop, she actually felt better. She thought she might even be able to go back and talk to Dean. She’d just risen to her feet when Gabriel spoke up.

“Sounds like your self-important jerk of a boyfriend needs to be taught a lesson.”

* * *

_Hey, alright now_  
Alright now fellas yeah!   
_Now what's cooler than bein' cool?_   
_(Ice cold!)_   
_I can't hear ya'_   
_I say what's, what's cooler than bein' cool?_   
_(Ice cold!)_   
_Woo..._

_Alright, alright, alright, alright_   
_Alright, alright, alright, alright_   
_Alright, alright, alright, alright_   
_Alright, alright,_

“The restaurant. You...you knew who I was, didn't you?” Donna stammered as Gabe danced closer and closer. “You're the Trickster, aren't you?”

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid,” he chuckled. “And what do you say you just call me Gabe?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” Donna asked, unable to keep the exasperation she was feeling out of her voice.

“You, of course,” he replied.

“Shut the front door,” Donna laughed. “Why would you want me?”

“Because you belong to Dean.” Gabriel’s voice dropped to a low whisper, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “And Dean doesn't deserve someone like you.”

* * *

**_Six Hours Earlier_ **

Donna balked, shocked at Gabe’s words. “Um, no, it was...we just...we just had an argument. He's _not_  a self-important jerk.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I don't think he appreciates you. Sounds to me like you are perfectly capable of contributing to the job, but he's treating you like a helpless female. Doesn't seem fair to me.”

She was regretting her decision to open her mouth and talk to a perfect stranger. She pushed her chair back and grabbed her things. Always polite - to a fault - she tried to smile at the man seated at the end of the long table. “Thank you for the company, Gabe, it was nice to meet you. But, I really need to go.”

Gabriel leapt to his feet and followed her, out of the diner door and down the street, hurrying to keep up with her. Donna stopped at the corner and turned to face him, ready to tell him to bug off. She opened her mouth to speak, but everything went black.

* * *

_OK now ladies (yeah!)_  
Now we gon' break this thing down in just a few seconds   
_Now don't have me to break this thing down for nothing_   
_Now I wanna see y'all on your baddest behavior_   
_Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor_   
_Uh! Here we go..._

_Shake it, shake, shake it, shake it (oh oh)_   
_Shake it, shake it, shake, shake it, shake it, shake it (oh oh)_   
_Shake it, shake it like a Polaroid picture, shake it, shake it_   
_Shh you got to, shake it, shh shake it, shake it, got to shake it_   
_(Shake it sugar) shake it like a Polaroid picture_

Donna took about ten seconds to make her decision. She hiked up her skirt, bunching it in both hands, and sprinted for the double set of doors on the other side of the gym. She hit them hard, prepared to burst through them and run for her life, but she came up short, slamming her entire body against it. She bounced backwards and fell to the ground, a loud, almost comical “oof” coming out of her. She tried to get up, but she got wrapped up in the stupid dress, tangling it around her feet and legs, falling back on her ass. She screamed in frustration.

Gabriel appeared in front of her, his hand out. She took it, tentatively, and let him help her to her feet. She tried her best to straighten the skirt, pushing Gabriel’s hands away when he tried to help. She stepped back, pushing herself against the wall.

“Where is Dean?” she asked. “Tell me where he is right now.”

“Well, hopefully he’s looking for you,” the Trickster shrugged. “Otherwise my plan won’t work.”

“Plan? What plan?” Donna snapped. “What are you going to do?”

“Finish what I started so long ago,” he replied. “Finish both Winchesters once and for all.”

* * *

**_Three Hours Earlier_ **

“This is bullshit,” Dean mumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Where the fuck did she go?”

“Dean, calm down,” Sam said. “She’s a grown woman, a cop for God’s sake. She can take care of herself.”

But Dean wasn’t about to calm down and Sam knew it. He’d been pacing and muttering under his breath ever since he’d gotten back to the motel room and found out Donna had gone out to get some air. His worry had only increased with every hour that passed.

“She’s been gone for hours and she’s not answering her cell,” Dean snapped, glaring at his brother. “I’m going out to look for her.”

Sam flinched as the door slammed behind Dean for the second time that day. He told himself that Donna was fine; just because she’d been gone for more than five hours didn’t mean something had happened to her. Maybe she’d just lost track of the time. Besides, he was confident that she could take care of herself. Dean was only worried because of how he felt about Donna, his perspective on things was a little different because of his feelings for her.

Except he was worried, too. He grabbed his laptop, the stake, and his jacket, and followed his brother out the door.

* * *

_Now all Beyoncé's and Lucy Liu's_   
_And baby dolls, get on the floor_   
_(Get on the floor)_   
_You know what to do._   
_You know what to do._   
_You know what to do!_

_Hey... ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey... ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (uh oh, hey ya)_   
_Hey... ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (uh, uh, oh oh)_   
_Hey... ya. (oh oh)_   
_Hey ya. (oh oh)_

Donna contemplated running again, but she was pretty sure it would be useless. She scanned the room, looking for an alternative exit to the double doors, but the only thing she saw were doors marked “Girls Locker Room” and “Boys Locker Room.” She had a feeling those wouldn’t take her anywhere.

Gabe took hold of her elbow and led her across the floor to a huge, gaudily decorated chair sitting in the middle of the gym floor on a raised platform.

“Your throne, your majesty,” he ordered. “Sit.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Gabe snapped his fingers and she was silenced. Her mouth was open, her lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. She glared at the Trickster.

“The incessant talking and questions are getting to me,” he said by way of explanation. “It’s like you’re trying to stall until your boyfriend gets here. Now sit!” He snapped his fingers again and she dropped into the chair. When she tried to stand up, she couldn’t move.

Gabriel grabbed a crown and a sash from a nearby table and put them on her. She grimaced, which only made the Trickster laugh.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” he laughed. “You’re my prom queen. And when Dean gets here, I’ll prove once and for all that he’s not worthy to be your king.”

* * *

**_Five Minutes Before Donna’s Crowning_ **

“This is a high school, Sam,” Dean muttered as he pulled into the empty parking lot behind a large, sprawling building. “How the hell did she end up at a high school more than an hour away from the motel?”

“Let’s go in and find out.” Sam pushed open the car door and stepped out. He pulled his gun out of his waistband and checked the load while he waited for Dean.

“Do you hear music?” Dean asked.

Sam listened carefully. He could hear music, faintly, coming from the back of the campus. “Is that - is that Outkast?”

Dean turned to stare at him. “I can not believe you know that.”

“What?” Sam shrugged. “It’s a catchy song.”

Dean rolled his eyes, gestured to his brother with his gun hand, and hurried across a well kept courtyard and up a set of stairs, following the music. They ended up outside a set of double doors that led to into a gym, as evidenced by the sign over the doors - Father Tannenbaum Memorial Gymnasium. Swirling colored lights were visible through the opaque glass in the heavy doors and the music was at its loudest, the song now some Black-Eyed Peas number Sam couldn’t remember the name of at the moment.

Sam plastered himself against the wall beside the door, Dean mirroring him on the other side. Sam grabbed the handle and yanked it open. Dean raised his gun and stepped inside.

The last thing Sam heard before the door slammed closed in his face was his brother calling Donna’s name.

* * *

As soon as Sam opened the door, Dean stepped into the cavernous gym. His heart was pounding and he was having a hard time catching his breath. He felt out of control, outside of himself, like he wasn’t thinking clearly. And for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t thinking clearly, hadn’t been since he’d come to the realization that Donna was missing. He felt like he was rushing headlong and completely blind into whatever the hell this was.

“Donna!” he shouted.

The second he was through the door, it slammed closed behind him, trapping Sam on the other side. He could hear his brother pounding on the door, but the sound seemed to be coming from a million miles away. Dean’s focus was drawn to the chair on the raised platform in the center of the room, a horribly decorated chair covered in streamers, and material in obnoxious colors. Donna was sitting on the chair, in what looked like a dress Miss America would wear, complete with crown and sash. She was watching him, shaking her head.

“What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath. He started to cross the room, taking roughly half a dozen steps before he couldn’t move any further, as if his feet were glued to the floor.

“That’s far enough, bucko!” Dean watched as Gabriel, the archangel, stepped out from behind the obnoxious chair Donna was seated in.

“Gabe?” Dean was taken aback. “What the hell? You’re dead. Lucifer killed you.”

“No, Lucifer killed that vessel-stealing douchebag of an angel that “borrowed” my vessel,” Gabriel snapped, making air quotes with his fingers, a disgusted look on his face. “I took it back.”

“Fuck me,” Dean shook his head. “Sam was right. You’re the Trickster. Well, unless _you_ want me to kill you in that vessel, I suggest you let Donna go. Now.” He raised his gun and pointed it at Gabe.

“Please,” the Trickster laughed. “You know you can’t hurt me with that.”

Dean looked at the gun in his hand. “You’re right.” He tossed it on a nearby table. “What do you want?”

“You and me, Dean. Mano y mano. Fight to the death,” the Trickster explained.

“Let Donna go and you’ve got a deal,” Dean replied.

The Trickster snapped his fingers. Donna’s entire body seemed to relax and then she pushed herself off the gaudy throne so violently she stumbled forward and almost fell. She managed to gather herself, hiked up her skirt, and ran off the stage, past the Trickster and into Dean’s arms, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple and hugging her with one arm. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, except for this fudging dress Gabe put me in,” she replied. “And that damn song he was playing. Nearly drove me off my rocker.” She glared at the Trickster as she pushed her hair off of her face. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Go on, get out of here.” He tried to push her toward the door. “Tell Sammy to get you as far away as possible.”

Donna shook her head. “I’m not leaving you. I’m staying right here.” She kept her arms around his neck.  

“Donna -” He pressed another kiss to her head, his nose buried in her hair. “Tell Sam it’s the Trickster. He’ll know what to do,” he murmured. “Now go.”

“Let her stay, Dean,” Gabriel said. “She’ll get a chance to see which one of us is the real man.” He slipped his suit jacket off, folding it carefully and laying it over the back of a chair. “Enough stalling. Let’s go.”

Donna suddenly disappeared from his arms, reappearing twenty or so feet away. He barely had time to process it though, because the Trickster was rushing toward him, fist raised, a deadly look on his face.

* * *

Sam yelled in frustration when the door closed on him. He pounded on it, screaming his brother’s name, to no avail. He even tried yanking it open, but it was futile. It was sealed tight.

He stepped back and took a deep breath, looking up and down the hallway. Several yards away from the door, he spotted a large vent, large enough that he thought he might be able to use it to get into the gym. He jogged down the hall, crouching in front of it, examining it. It would work. It took a few seconds to unscrew the vent cover and drop it to the ground, before pushing himself to his feet and hurrying back to the double doors. He peered through the window.

Donna was standing next to Dean, her arms around his neck, his lips against her temple. As he watched, she suddenly disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the huge gymnasium, just a few feet away from a vent cover. Right where he was hoping to enter the room. He pounded on the door, screaming Donna’s name.

She finally looked his way, a horrified look on her face. Her eyes widened when she saw him. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder at Dean wrapped in an impossible, brutal dance of destruction with someone who looked an awful lot like Gabriel the Archangel. She hesitated just a second, then turned and sprinted to the door. She pressed her mouth to the thin crack between the doors.

“It’s the Trickster, Sam,” she yelled.

Sam nodded. He knocked on the glass, then pointed at the vent near where she’d been standing. She looked at it, then nodded in understanding.

“Two minutes,” he mouthed, holding up two fingers.

He waited for her to acknowledge him, then he turned and sprinted back down the hall and outside, praying they had what he needed in the Impala.

* * *

Donna raced across the room, skirted hiked up around her mid-thighs, bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. She dropped to her knees in front of the vent cover, her fingers slipping on the screws holding it in place, one nail breaking down to the quick before she was able to loosen it enough to pull it free. She leaned it against the wall, hoping Gabriel wouldn’t notice it, turning just as Dean flew through the air and crashed into a table of food.

“Dean!” she screamed, jumping to her feet.

He waved her off and struggled to his feet, wiping a mixture of blood and cake off of his face. He hunched over and shot off his feet, wrapping his arms around Gabe’s knees and knocking him to the floor. He landed several good blows before the Trickster shoved him way, scrambled to his feet, and backed away.

“Whoo-hoo, Dean, your moves have improved,” he laughed. “Too bad they won’t do you any good.” He smiled widely at Donna and winked at her. He shook himself from head to toe, laughing maniacally. “Alright, bucko, let’s get this over with. I’m getting bored.”

Gabriel charged, tackling Dean, knocking over a stack of chairs, a loud grunt coming from him. Donna cringed, following them as they moved, keeping one eye on the vent, the other on the fight.

“Come on, Sam,” she mumbled.

Just as the words left her mouth, she heard the vent cover clatter to the floor and saw Sam struggling to climb out. Donna rushed over and grabbed his hand, yanking him free. In his right hand, he held a long stake, the end a bright red color. Blood.

Sam pushed past her, racing across the room, the stake raised. Donna followed after him, screaming and hitting the floor as he suddenly flew backwards through the air, the stake falling to the floor. He crashed into the throne, knocking it over and getting tangled in the streamers and material covering it.

Gabriel stalked to the center of the room, stopping a couple of feet from Donna, both arms raised, both Winchesters frozen in place. His chest was rapidly rising and falling, his eyes flashing in anger.

“Alright, enough fun and games,” he howled. “I’m done with this. Time to go, Donna.”

“Don’t touch her,” Dean growled. “I swear if you touch her, I will end you.”

Gabriel swung around to glare at the hunter. He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so, bucko. She’s going with me. Trust me, it won’t take long for her to grow to love me.”

Gabe’s laugh cut off with a deep gurgling sound, his eyes widening in astonishment as he stared down at the gaping wound and protruding stake in his chest. Blood dripped from his mouth, running down his chin. He turned around slowly, staring at Donna, his hands wrapped around the stake, trying to pull it free as he fell to his knees.

“I don’t think so, bucko,” Donna snarled.

* * *

Donna wiped at the congealed mess of cake and blood on Dean’s face, trying in vain to clean it off. He held her tight against his side, obviously not wanting to let her go. He was squeezing her so tight she couldn’t breath, but she didn’t care.

“You okay?” he breathed.

“For Pete’s sake, I’m peachy,” she sighed. “Stop worryin’ about me.”

“Not possible,” Dean chuckled. He pushed a lock of hair away from her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Sorry I was an ass. I should have listened to you.”

“Damn right you shoulda listened to me,” she grinned. “I can take care of myself. And you guys, too, apparently.”

The brothers laughed in unison and the sound was like music to her ears, the best sound she’d heard in just about forever. She grinned, resting her head against Dean’s shoulder. What she really wanted to do was cry. It had been a long day.

“How about we get out of here?” Dean laughed.

“Heck, yeah,” Donna nodded. “I wanna get out of this darn dress.”

“Mmm, can I help you with that?” Dean murmured.

“Oh, yeah, you betcha,” she giggled.

“Oh my God, you two,” Sam chuckled. “Get a room.”

 


End file.
